Tribulations Unending
by theminimogut
Summary: *This Is A Rewrite* Llathala doesn't like dealing with 'politics,' or meat-heads. One-Shot, No Pairing, Written in Third Person, from Llathala's Perspective. Since looking through this, picking out typos and lines I didn't like, I'm much happier with how this turned out!


Llathala sighed; given the circumstances, sighing was the most she could do without looking like she was not invested in the… negotiations. As it was, this discussion seemed mostly like an opportunity for Tullius and Ulfric to have tantrums and go at each other's throats with few negative repercussions.

She allowed her mind to wander; after all, how hard would it be to catch up? For the last six months, Llathala had been dashing all over Skyrim, locating Word Walls, exterminating dragons and overall attempting to become a 'proper' Dragonborn. That by itself was tiring, but it hadn't been her only duty.

For a little while, she had been able to act as both Dragonborn and Companion, keeping the two mutually exclusive. She would take small jobs from the companions that would take her close to where she was needed as Dragonborn, and then slip away from her shield sibling for a bit. But it did not work out - a confrontation with one Vilkas Jergenson had proven that - and in the end she had to lie to Kodlak, and flee from the many pairs of companions that followed her. Based off of appearances, High Hrothgar was the only place they had not followed her, and so Llathala spent her off days there, always learning.

"What say you, Dragonborn?" came Ulfric's deep voice.

Llathala flushed; so much for catching up. Putting on her best disbelieving voice, she said: "Explain this to me again." The finishing touch? She steepled her fingers and leaned forward so that only her eyes were seen. There were a few sighs from the audience - the loudest came from Delphine and Elenwen - but Ulfric complied anyways.

"We want control of Markarth," Ulfric stated, ignoring the - repeated - uproar from the Imperials.

"You hope to gain in council what you've been unable to take in battle, eh Ulfric?" Tullius replied; The Reach, though treacherous, did have many mines which would prove useful to whomever controlled it at the time. No wonder Ulfric asked for it outright.

"I'm sure Jarl Ulfric does not expect something for nothing, as I stated before," Arngeir said soothingly, though with a harsh glance in the dark elf's direction. "What would the empire want in return?"

Another outburst from both sides. "Enough!" Tullius finally shouted. "First, let's be clear: this council wasn't my idea," he stated bluntly, glancing at the Dragonborn. "I think it's a waste of time."

More shouting; the entire council was getting out of hand. Llathala put her head in her hands, not even bothering to hide her disgust at either side. Arngeir was attempting to quiet them, but with little success. It was obvious that he wanted to avoid shouting if possible; Llathala wasn't so cautious, at least not at the moment. She cleared her throat, standing. No one noticed, besides Legate Rikke and Galmar, who were sitting right next to her, and heard the scrape of armor.

"YOL," Llathala shouted, aiming at the central brazier; the hall went silent. Arngier did not look pleased, but it was clear he appreciated the silence.

Tullius cleared his throat awkwardly. "Since we're all here at your request, maybe we should hear what you think Markarth is worth."

Llathala sat down, looking both Ulfric and Tullius in the eye as she thought. Out of the four Stormcloak holds, three could be given up to the Imperials, and only one was a prosperous hold. Dawnstar had a few mines, but one only produced silver, and the rest of the hold had nothing useful. Winterhold, on the other hand, was close to Windhelm, and had the Mages' College. But, being right on the Sea of Ghosts, it was bitterly cold, and half of the only settlement had fallen into the aforementioned sea. This left one other option.

"Riften," said the Dragonborn firmly, once again looking both men in the eye. Tullius mused to himself, while Ulfric stood, as if to leave.

"I expected better from you, Dragonborn. I came here in good faith, and now it seems you help the Empire at every turn," he said, looking down his nose at the elf, before turning to his second. "Let's go Galmar. I should have listened to you in the first place."

Llathala, furious on the inside, but keeping a calm facade, stood to challenge him, and was joined by Tullius, but it was Esbern who talked the fussy Nord down.

"Stop! Isn't tending to this danger enough to halt these petty disagreements?" The old man's voice rang stridently throughout the hall. "Here you sit, arguing about nothing, while the fate of the land hangs in the balance."

Ulfric, ever the charmer, made a blustery threat to Delphine. "Is he with you? Then I'd advise you to tell him to watch his tongue."

"He _is_ with me," Delphine said darkly. "And I'd advise _you both_ to listen to what he has to say, before you do anything rash." Llathala had never respected Delphine more than she did in that moment, although the Breton would probably soon ruin that.

Both Ulfric and Tullius fussed at each other slightly, but still sat. Llathala wasn't sure she'd be able to sit through another tantrum; the outcome probably wouldn't be pretty. Thank the Aedra and Daedra combined that she didn't have to wait long.

"You surrender Hjaalmarch to us," Ulfric put out almost immediately. "And take Idgrod Raven-Crone with you." Damn. Llathala actually liked Idgrod, as she was a level-headed and just Jarl. The only reason he could even want that gods-forsaken hold was that it got him closer to Solitude.

"Where do these demands stop, Ulfric? Do you expect me to hand over all of Skyrim?"

"I suppose we have no choice but to let the Dragonborn decide," Ulfric said bitterly, turning to the Dunmer. "What say you?"

"The Imperials should only give up Hjaalmarch if they get something in return," the Dragonborn replied without a second thought.

And all oblivion broke loose. The imperials started shouting 'yes, that's fair!' while Ulfric and Galmar shot nasty looks in my direction and began demanding compensation for a slaughter in one of their holds. The Greybeards tried to calm them down, the Blades tried to calm them down, but no. The argument almost got physical, but then they tired of shouting each other, and turned on the instigator of their argument.

"You're a traitor to Skyrim, you elven bitch!" Ulfric spat. "You don't deserve the title of Dragonborn!" Everyone except the man in question realized he had gone too far.

She stood up swiftly, shouted "WULD," which propelled her directly in front of Ulfric - who wasn't brave enough to insult the Dovahkiin within arm's reach - and began to yell.

"How dare you? I do not _deserve_ the title? I did not even want the title! And yet I am the one who is trying to fix this!"

There was an approving comment from Tullius, but the Dragonborn merely turned on him as well.

"You do not make this easier, Imperial! You goad each other, hoping to make the other look bad, but you both succeed only in making yourselves look like fools!" Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Ulfric. "But at least Tullius doesn't insult me!"

She turned, gesturing to all sides: Imperial, Stormcloak, Human, Elf, Greybeard and Blade… though the last two were aware, or most of them were.

"Don't you understand the danger?" Llathala barked. "Don't you understand what the return of the dragons mean? Alduin has returned, the World-Eater, and even now he devours the souls of your fallen comrades! He grows more powerful with every soldier slain in your pointless, _pathetic_ war! Can you not put aside your hatred for one moment in the face of this mortal danger?"

Elenwen, so aptly named the "Thalmor Bitch," began to speak up, but the Dragonborn turned on her instead.

"Shut up," was the eloquent reply. In anyone else, it might be taken as a childish response - which it indeed was - but no one dared question the Dragonborn when fire was literally wavering on her tongue.

Both men looked sufficiently more humble - or possibly scared - than they had a few minutes before. The trades were finalized, and both groups left as soon as possible, some more calmly than others. Llathala glared after them, made sure they were gone, and then sunk back into her chair with a pained groan.

"Is something wrong?" Esburn asked cautiously. The Dunmer shook her head, grimacing as she rummaged around in her satchel. Her hand emerged, clutching a bottle filled with a thick, brown liquid, which she uncorked and downed.

"I see you took my advice, Dovahkiin," Arngeir said, sounding both relieved and reprimanding. "Or at least partially."

"Advice…?" Delphine prompted the elf.

"Old injury," Llathala replied, gagging at the taste. "It began to… 'act up?' during my tirade."

She got to her feet shortly afterwards, and walked stiffly out of the hall, followed swiftly by a concerned Esburn, and a highly agitated Delphine. Without a parting word to either one, Llathala sank to her knees in the main hall, on the exact spot where Einarth had taught her 'Ro,' balance.

She listened. She listened as Wulfgar shouted the hour; funny, the negotiations hadn't lasted longer than an hour. She listened as the heavy front doors opened, letting in the cold air. As Delphine muttered something to Esburn, who closed the doors. Soft footsteps, walking to her side, stopping. Waiting.

Llathala waited in turn; from the tower, she heard Einarth, Lok-Voluk, dispel the storm, if only temporarily. Finally, Delphine - for it was she - spoke.

"We know about Paarthurnax," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

"You know what?" the Dunmer replied calmly.

"Paarthurnax, the… dragon the Greybeards have been protecting all these years," the Breton hissed back.

"As a dragon, he would hardly need protecting, would he?" Llathala said, feigning ignorance.

"He needs to die." The Dragonborn's eyes snapped open. "He _deserves_ to die." The elf turned her gaze to the human. "And it falls to you to kill him."

Credit had to be given; Delphine didn't even flinch as Llathala advanced on her, despite the - albeit slight - height difference between them. "Until he's dead… well, I'm sorry, but we would dishonor our oaths as Blades if we continued to help you."

Llathala was levelheaded. She'd had to be, but tonight had worn her patience thin. Dealing with male Nords - sometimes just males in general - tends to do that to a person. And whereas Llathala would usually turn to Arngier, or the steadfast Jenassna for advice, the Dovahkiin found that she didn't need that right now. Not in the face of such audacity.

"Make your choice, Dragonborn. You're either with us, or against us."

"Then I am against you."

* * *

Mia: Thank you! Yeah, for me it was irritating and satisfying all at once XD Oh yes, one particular Companion will be_ very_ angry. That will be fun to write, muahaha, although it will be a while in coming, I've got another backstory one-shot planned (maybe two?), and then possibly one or two more after that.


End file.
